


Morning After Auld Lang Syne

by fictionalcandie



Series: Idol University [5]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hangover, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Timestamp, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-20
Updated: 2010-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A New Year's Day timestamp. Prominently showcasing coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Follows directly after _[T Minus Ten](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1146360)_.

Kris woke up to a thump down the hall from his and Adam's bedroom, followed by a louder bang, and someone swearing creatively and grumpily in a sleepy voice.

"— me in the fucking bathroom already, you socially-appropriate-behavior-crippled assholes!"

So, Neil was awake, then.

Kris groaned. He reluctantly wiggled from under Adam's out-flung limbs, which were still sleep heavy and also really awesomely warm, and rolled out of bed.

—

The problem, Kris discovered, when he stumbled out of his bedroom (still tugging on his t-shirt, but hey, this was _his_ apartment, and it certainly hadn't been _his_ idea to wake up before noon on New Year's Day), was that the bathroom was — still? again? — occupied by Brad and Andrew.

"I need to piss, Bell," Neil snapped at the door. He was glaring in a really menacing way, even though the occupants of the bathroom couldn't see him. Kris edged out of reach, just in case.

There was an incomprehensible burst of noise from the other side of the door. Possibly someone had mumbled something. It didn't sound particularly polite.

"If this door isn't unlocked by the time I count to five, I'll go out and get that... _blingy_... jacket I saw in the front closet and use _it_ instead of the toilet, do you understa—"

The door swung open.

Brad, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear that was _obviously_ not his, matched Neil menacing glare for menacing glare.

Kris backed up a little more.

"Touch my jacket and I will skin _you_ for Cassidy to make me another," said Brad.

"Ew," muttered Kris.

Brad narrowed his eyes and added, "I'll be _glad_ to wear it, too."

"So let me use the damn toilet," retorted Neil, pointing past Brad into the bathroom like they didn't know where the toilet was, "and I won't _have_ to use the jacket."

Still glaring, Brad stepped out of the doorway. "Fine, fine, use the toilet, if you must. But the tub is... occupied," he said, still glaring at Neil. "You probably don't want to move the shower curtain."

"I wouldn't dream of it," replied Neil, and he slammed the bathroom door in their faces.

Brad faced Kris, his glare turning into a hopeful smile. "Salutations, Arkansas. Coffee?"

—

The kitchen already had awake people in it.

Cale and Adam's muppet were sitting at the table, looking like they hadn't slept at _all_ , and Skunk Boy's hair was still weird and two-toned, and they were still talking.

About Adam. And singing. And Adam singing. And Adam singing and wearing really tight trousers. And also, Adam's fanboys.

"—I mean, it's not like he's _subtle_ about it," Skunk Boy was saying.

"Who's not subtle about what?" Kris demanded suspiciously, pausing in the doorway.

"Adam," said Cale, giving Kris a bright smile, "when he performs. Tommy says the, uh, _sexy part_... has got to be deliberate."

"There's a reason they call it 'fan service'," Skunk Boy said blandly. "Morning, Kris"

Kris was not amused. "Hi," he said.

They'd already made a pot of coffee, though, and Cale was giving some of it to Brad, so Kris put off introducing Skunk Boy to his baseball bat.

He left the kitchen instead.

—

Out in the living room, Charles was sprawled out over the entire couch, sporting smeared writing in dark marker across most of his bare back, and covered by at least three feather boas and the contents of maybe half a dozen cans of silly string. Kris wasn't going to ask.

(There was a bright orange boa dangling from the light fixture on the ceiling. Kris wasn't asking about that, either. Or the really impressive Leaning Tower of Beer Cans decorating the coffee table.)

Kris kicked the couch.

The Tower of Beer wobbled.

Charles grunted.

"Coffee, man," Kris announced, loudly, because if he was going to be awake this early against his will _in his own home_ , then so was everyone else. "Time to get up."

Charles grunted again. One eye opened this time. "Y'r me'n. 'n teeny," he slurred. The eye closed. "'m shleepin'."

" _Up_ ," Kris said, and headed for the guest room to wake the girls.

—

Danielle and Allison were both in the spare room, like they were supposed to be, though Danielle was on the floor with the duvet and Allison was on the bed with all four pillows (and Kris wasn't really sure how that worked out because it wasn't like the girls hadn't ever shared that bed before, when they visited) and they were both still in their clothes from the night before.

Kris pushed at Danielle's shoulder with his toe, saying "Rise and shiiine, ladies," in sing-song, and leaned over the bed to shake Allison too. (That was as annoying as Kris would let himself be. He knew from experience that it wasn't wise to say "Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey" to any of his friends while trying to get them up, because if he did and there _wasn't_ eggs and bacon immediately available, they tended to inflict pain.)

"G'way," Danielle groaned. She burrowed further under the duvet. "Only jus' fell 'sleep."

"Fine, but you're missing an epic bitch fight between Brad and Neil," replied Kris blithely, grinning because they couldn't see him. "And anyone not in the kitchen in ten minutes doesn't get leftover generic-winter-holiday cookies with their coffee."

On the bed, Allison sighed loudly. "Izzat bribery or coercion, Dani?"

"Extortion," said Danielle. "Pretty sure 's extortion. Somehow."

"Cookies!" Kris repeated, enticingly, and left.

—

Walking back into the hall after trying to wake the girls up, Kris noticed that the bathroom door was open, and he could hear Neil arguing with someone in the kitchen. Andrew — wearing only a pair of jeans — emerged too, scratching his stomach (where there just happened to be a cluster of dark hickeys at which Kris was _really_ trying not to stare) and yawning, to join Kris in the hall.

"Someone should invent bathtub pillows," he remarked, passing Kris, on his way into the kitchen, lured by the smell of coffee and the sound of Brad's voice (talking about lace-up leather _somethings_ ).

Kris paused to knock his forehead against the wall a couple of times.

"How is this my life?" he asked no-one in particular.

"You decided to attend Idol," said a remarkably sympathetic voice, and Adam crowded up behind Kris, bending to kiss the side of his neck. "Happy New Year, Kris."

"Didn't you say that already?" Kris asked, and leaned back into Adam's chest.

Adam smiled against Kris's skin. "Yeah, well, it's the best year, ever," he whispered, and turned Kris's head so he could kiss him.

Kris had just twined his fingers in Adam's sex-and-sleepy messy hair and tugged him even closer to deepen the kiss, when Neil cleared his throat.

While Adam groaned in annoyance, Kris turned to see that most of their guests were standing near the other end of the hall. And most of _them_ looked sheepish.

"Uh, Kris," began Cale. He scratched the back of his neck.

" _What_ , guys."

Skunk Boy blurted, "We can't find your brother."

"... _excuse me_?"

—

Adam ordered everyone to spread out and search the apartment (except Brad, who he ordered to "get dressed. Right now. No, seriously, _right away_ "). Two minutes later, Kris's name was being called from his bedroom. "You need to see this!" Danielle added.

That sounded pretty ominous.

Kris went to see.

Daniel was passed out on the floor of Adam's closet, in with all the shoes, curled up in the corner with one of Adam's pointy-toed something-skin boots hugged to his chest, along with the (now-empty) bottle of champagne that had gone missing from the fridge early the previous night.

"Daniel!" Kris grimaced. "What the hell, dude?"

Jerking back into the wall as he was startled awake, Daniel reached up and rubbed at his eyes. Without letting go of the boot or the wine bottle. "Bro," he said, cheerful and not at _all_ hungover, but totally not awake yet, either, "heya, bro, 's it morning a'ready?"

"What are you _doing_?" demanded Adam, coming up behind Kris again and sounding positively horrified.

"Bro," Daniel said again, in exactly the same tone, smiling, "lookit me!"

"We're looking," muttered Kris. "Why are you in Adam's closet?"

"'Cause Brad said Adam liked closets, so I wanted to try." Still smiling, he waved the wine vaguely in Kris's direction. "An' I drank all this an' it was dark so I fell asleep."

Kris looked more closely at the bottle. He let out a squawk of outrage. "Hey! That was mine!" he said, disbelieving. "Daniel, _Adam gave me that_!"

Daniel blinked at him. Then he blinked past Kris at Adam. He beamed. "Right on, dude, it was _awesome_."

"Yell at him after he's had coffee," Cale suggested, gently pushing Kris out of the way so that he and Andrew could yank Daniel out of the closet and herd him off to the living room. Cale added, over his shoulder, "He'll remember more of it."

"He drank my special illegal champagne," Kris said to the room at large, and pouted.

Adam rubbed his back gently. "I'll get you another. And then we can tattle to Kim."

"She'll ground _me_!"

"You don't live with her," Adam pointed out.

Kris raised his eyebrows at Adam. " _So_?"

"... I'm gonna go have cookies," declared Danielle, shaking her head.

—

Later, when everyone had gathered in the living room and cookies, coffee, and aspirin had been passed around, Allison apparently woke up enough to remember that she'd brought someone to the party with her the night before.

"Hey, where's Archie?"

"Neil had him, the last I saw," Kris replied, still glaring a little at Daniel, who was slumped on the floor half-under the coffee table, the rubble of the Tower of Beer around him.

Neil snorted. "Oh, he was gone by one-thirty. Weakling."

" _Gone_?" exclaimed Allison.

"Yeah, he left," Neil replied, shrugging. "Why?"

"Neil," said Adam, very slowly, "Are you telling me that you let a barely legal teenager walk home _by himself_ on _New Year's Eve_ and you _didn't tell anyone_?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you." Neil rolled his eyes. "No, of course I didn't, I am not a _moron_. Some man came and got him."

"Oh, _witnessing_ an abduction, that's _much_ better, we can all rest easy with poor Archuleta off who knows where having who knows what done to him, not-in-the-fun-way, knowing that you saw some guy drive off with him," muttered Brad. "You're not really helping your case, Lambert."

Neil threw a cookie at Brad's face. "Fuck's sake, Bell, he knew the guy, all right?"

"Do you know the percentage of abductions committed by a person who knows the victim?" asked Charles, cocking his head to one side.

"Oh for the love of—" Neil groaned. "He _called_ the guy, you perverted, filthy-minded people."

There was a moment of silence. Kris figured it was in honor of the justice in that statement.

"... oh. That's less interesting," admitted Andrew, eventually.

" _Tell_ me about it," said Neil.

"What'd he look like?" Allison asked, leaning over Kris to steal one of Adam's cookies off his leg. "The guy Archie called to pick him up."

Neil shrugged. "Twenty-something, scruffy-reddish beard? He had, like, three guitar cases in the backseat of his car. And he did _not_ like me."

"What what would make you think that?" Brad inquired sweetly.

"Well for one thing, when I offered Archie a beer for the road, the guy looked like he wanted to punch me," snapped Neil. "Can I throw more cookies at Bell's head, Adam?"

"No," said Adam.

Brad looked smug. "I am responsible for all of Adam's fabulously athletic gay sex. He's not going to let you thr— Hey!" he shrieked, as a cookie hit the side of his head.

Adam failed to look innocent.

"No more throwing cookies," Danielle ordered sternly. "I need to eat them, boys, or Alli and I might have to kill you all for being this _male_ so early in the morning."

"What she said," added Allison. She looked like she was trying to look fierce; Kris didn't bother telling her that she'd stalled somewhere around _adorable_. "Anyway, I want Neil to tell me more about what he did to make Cook want to punch him."

"'Cook'?" echoed Neil. "You know him, too?"

"Chick-fil-A manager," Kris said, appropriately reverent. He narrowed his eyes at Neil. "Do you know what this means, Neil?"

Neil eyed him warily. "What does it mean, Kristopher?"

"It means that you've _angered the chicken gods_ ," Allison intoned solemnly.

"That's it," declared Adam, shaking his head. "No more Lambert-Allen parties for you, Neil."

"What!" Neil scowled. "Daniel steals Kris's special romantic couple-y bottle of wine and drinks it all, and _I'm_ the brother you ban from your parties? How is that fair?"

Kris tilted his head and considered that. "Good point," he said. "From now on, no more Lambert-Allen parties, period."

"... Kris!" exclaimed Adam.

"Kidding," said Kris, but Adam still looked scandalized.

The others started snickering.

Under the coffee table, Daniel passed out again.

**Author's Note:**

> This work can also be read [here on LJ](http://gailsauce.livejournal.com/75602.html) or [here on DW](http://gailsauce.dreamwidth.org/75214.html?style=site).


End file.
